A Circle Within A Circle
by Xzeihoranth
Summary: In an infinite number of worlds, it only follows that there are an infinite number of possibilities. Sometimes, constants are variable. One Elizabeth sees all before her time, and another Elizabeth is spared, but not in the way you might think...
1. Chapter 1

A familiar scene plays out before you. A man and a woman stand before a glass case containing a dead body. The man offers to open it. The woman refuses. He insists. He finds the clasp in the back, and when he touches it, the lights dim.

But this time, it is not a man's voice that rings out, but a woman's. Hers in fact; the woman who waits on the other side of the case. She seems just as confused as he does though, so either she doesn't remember saying these things, or...

"I...see...everything. I will die tomorrow; the 'procedure' goes wrong, and looking through the cracks of the universe does not, or will not, help. But that is the way it must be. All I can do is turn the machine he had built for me in her tomb to my own ends...and pray. Booker, when you hear this, I'm sorry..."

Strange and horrible light pours forth from the devices on the wall and the two are in agony. Her hands at first are raised above her head as if to ward off the tendrils of energy that gnaw at her, but slowly stretch out in an unconscious, familiar gesture. His mind feels as if it's being ripped in two. Things that he should have known, but that he'd forgotten or misplaced, come flooding back, clashing violently with the things he thought he knew about the world and his mission and his life.

Suddenly, it's over. Booker DeWitt opens his eyes and finds himself sprawled over the sarcophagus of Lady Comstock, staring blindly at her portrait on the wall. He blinks, and blinks again to clear his eyes. He doesn't remember crying. He hasn't done that in years. Not since Anna... **Anna.** He lifts himself up and stumbles around. She's slumped against the wall, her head tilted back. It seems as though she hasn't moved since the machine stopped.

"Anna..." His voice hurts. Everything hurts. He moves forward nevertheless. "Anna." he says again, and Elizabeth moves her head slowly, slowly, until she looks him in the eye. "I'm here, Booker. I've always been here." she says and even manages a little smile. He reaches her. Reaches out to her. She pushes herself away from the wall and into his arms.

What an odd place for an embrace. The woman hated the girl in life. What would she say now? Such thoughts are academic, in this world at least. They're both crying; both holding each other tightly; both wondering what happenened; both deciding it can wait; both happy just to be right now, to be where they are, who they are. No questions, no recriminations, just this. Them. Father. Daughter. Together again.

A voice from outside. "Well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

And another. "Not like this."

"Rather a mystery."

"I do love a good mystery though."

"Do you suppose asking them would do any good?"

"Worth a try."

"I say, Mr DeWitt..."

"That was rubbish. You sound like a schoolboy."

"Would you like to have a go then?"

"Certainly would."

A disgruntled growl from inside. "Do you mind? I'm trying to hug my daughter here."

"There'll be plenty of time for that once you've given us an answer."

The man replies. "You've been holding out on us since the start. I'm just payin' my debts, that's all."

"He seems to remember everything."

"But why?"

"He is obstinate as ever..."

"Then I suggest we examine the variables."

"An excellent proposal. Excuse us."

The Luteces vanish as lightning cuts through the sky above. Elizabeth pulls away from Booker and walks slowly around the room, peering at the devices on the wall. "Any idea what those do?"

"They hurt, I'll give 'em that."

"Yeah, you c'n say that again. I mean besides that."

She frowns. "When they were on, it felt like something was _using_ me. Like they were forcing me to open a tear."

"Think you might be onto somethin'. Take a look." She comes back to stand at his side. He points to the structure on their left. "That room was on fire when we came in here. A fire that big wouldn't go out that quick."

"And that building in front of us had a roof on top, I'm sure of it." She pushes the gate open and steps outside. He follows, and puts a hand on her shoulder. "We should probably talk, huh?" she asks quietly.

"Uh huh." he says. She turns to face him, hastily brushing a tear from her face. "Hey, you missed one." He wipes a second away with his thumb; she smiles, closes her eyes. "There, all done."

"For now." she says wryly. They walk up the stairs in silence. Elizabeth pauses and her face falls slightly when she sees the bodies. "Gimme a sec." Booker says. He starts to clear the bodies away as his daughter waits. They belonged to civilians, so he tries his best to be respectful of them, remembering what she'd done with a rose just a few hours earlier.

Finally, he's finished, pulls a chair up from where it had been cast aside and offers it to her. "You didn't have to do that." she says as she takes it.

"Yes I did." he replies. He waits for her to sit before seating himself on the ground before her.

"Beauty before age, Booker?" she asks. They smlle and, eventually, they begin to talk.


	2. Chapter 2

Several minutes have passed. Booker and his daughter have covered a surprising amount of ground during that time, from whether he should call her Elizabeth or Anna (the former, she said without hesitation. Anna is someone else), to the feelings of guilt that had already begun to surface in Booker's heart (she was upset at what he remembers that he'd done, understandably, but also briefly, deciding that in this case at least, the past should remain the past). They had begun to speculate about why they had been forced to come here, when another flash of lightning reveals the Luteces standing behind Elizabeth. They feel like the proverbial cat who ate the cream: so smug and self-satisfied...

"We've another job for you, DeWitt." Robert says.

"And for you." Rosalind addresses Elizabeth.

"You are to return to the girl's tower and...deactivate the machine you saw when you arrived."

"While you proceed as intended, into Comstock House."

"The machines cannot be destroyed in the manner you are accustomed to."

"They must be disarmed; at the same time, no less." They hand the two sheafs of papers: long, involved instructions on what to push and when.

"What makes these things so important?" Booker asks as he ruffles through the documents, searching desperately for something he can comprehend.

"If you intend for us to fill in all the blanks in that magnificently empty head of yours, DeWitt, we shall be here until dawn."

"She couldn't manage it on her own, and so it falls to you."

"How is he supposed to get to the tower? It's MILES away." Elizabeth asks, having already read her papers.

"With this." Rosalind holds out a strange-looking instrument. It looks as if it might be a flute, but it's made in a style that neither of them have seen before: green holes for the fingers to cover, and a series of tubes at the far end instead of the traditional single opening.

"You'll find the cage to be most helpful." Robert suggests. The two wait while Booker examines the flute closely.

"What the hell's a cage got to do with this thing?" he mutters.

"Can I see it?" He nods, and hands it up to Elizabeth. She tilts her head to the side as she thinks; he has to fight the urge to hug her again. "Cage..." she murmurs quietly. "Cage...C, A, G, E." She raises the flute to her lips, and plays. The last note trembles forlornly in the air for a time, then a shriek splits the silence. Booker and Elizabeth scramble to their feet, dropping the flute and the papers in the process. "Streets are wide open. There's nowhere to run." Booker growls. Elizabeth frantically scours the sky for the shadow she can feel approaching.

"Why? Why did you do that?" she demands of the Luteces.

"Because we must" came the impassive reply. She abandons them to their silent watching and returns to the railing. Her father tries to reassure her. "We haven't come this far to die now." She says nothing. For a moment, he thinks he sees her tremble in fear. But then Songbird arrives.

He lands on the building across from them, which promptly collapses under his weight. He leans forward until he can look Booker dead in the eyes, and shrieks his disapproval. Booker readies his gun and prepares to go out in one final blaze of glory, or be torn asunder from top to bottom, when he notices the colossus makes no move to attack. Its eyes are a watchful yellow, not the brilliant red he'd seen them change to when he first came face-to-face with it in the bay.

"Elizabeth...?" Booker begins. She's beside him now, ready to shove him out of the way if the bird tries to impale her guardian with its immense claws. It mutters something to itself, and she seems to relax, lowering her guard and reaching up to touch its massive beak. "What's wrong?" she asks. "Why aren't you trying to take me back like you did before?" It chirrups again.

"What's he saying?" Booker asks as he takes a step away.

"He seems to think you're Comstock," she says hesitantly. "He's come for instructions."

"Instructions? I...why does he think I'm Comstock? Has he SEEN me?"

Elizabeth strokes Songbird's beak almost tenderly. "He's not very bright, but he is loyal."

"Guess that'll have to do." Booker says. "So I tell him to take me to the tower, and you go ahead to Comstock House on your own..."

"One cannot be in two places at once." Rosalind says.

"Unless your name is Lutece."

"I'm not letting her walk the streets by herself while there's a revolution goin' on." Booker says firmly.

"It doesn't seem as though there's any other way of getting out of the city." Elizabeth says, looking to the Luteces for confirmation. They offer none. "Besides, you killed anything that moved pretty thoroughly on the way here."

"Yeah? And what happens when you get inside? You think you're just gonna put on a cardboard box and stick to the shadows?"

"Robert, if you please." Robert dutifully hands his associate a leather-bound watch with a gold-colored casing. She straps it onto her wrist and presses the rightmost button, whereupon she promptly fades out of sight. Her voice remains, seeming to move up and down the length of the room. "As you can see..."

"Or can't see." Robert remarked.

"The device offers an imperfect invisibility field. It allows for five seconds of uninterrupted movement before it begins to run out of power." A faint silhouette can be seen against the fireplace. "Press the left button to decloak, and the middle button to recharge. It is capable of recharging while still active, although it takes substantially longer to reach maximum capacity." The scientist fades back into view, and removes the watch from her wrist. "We've no idea how it works-"

"But the results speak for themselves." Robert adds. Elizabeth takes the device Rosalind is offering her, and fastens it upon her left wrist.

"Try not to come in contact with anyone while you are cloaked. They find it most distressing." Rosalind advises her.

Booker, who has been watching the demonstration with only mild surprise, speaks up. "Now you done it. We're never gonna see her again." Elizabeth rolls her eyes at him playfully. "We'd better get going. Things are only going to get worse come nightfall."

Booker embraces her again, doing his best to make up for lost time and the countless times he now knows he should have done this in the past. "You'll be careful, won't you?" she asks into his shirt.

"It's you I'm worried about," he replies. "That lightning up there don't bode well."

She pulls back and looks at him steadily. "I'll be fine, dad." His heart skips a beat when she says it, but outwardly he merely nods and steps towards Songbird, who seems to have grown impatient. He shuffles from one foot to another, never taking his gaze from Elizabeth. "All right, you...uh, whatever the hell you are. Take me to the tower." Booker says to Songbird. Songbird lets out another shriek, seizes him in one of its arms and takes to the skies.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well fella, I got to hand it to you. You did a better job wrecking this place than I could've." Booker says sardonically. Songbird either doesn't understand him or doesn't care for his opinion. It merely drops him at the entrance and flies away to circle high above the remains of the tower. "Least he coulda done was lend a hand." Booker mutters. "Whatever. Got enough Salts to do a fair bit of clearin' from afar."

He sets to work. While his first experience with the Vigors of Columbia had been far from pleasant, he will admit if pressed that they were handy in a pinch. With a bit of concentration, he's able to lift large hunks of debris into the air with Bucking Bronco and cast them aside with Undertow. All too soon, he's out of room to deposit them. "I'd throw 'em over the side, but mama always said not to litter," he says to himself. "Guess it's time to head on in."

The ground floor of the tower is surprisingly traversible. Very little of the upper structures have made it this far down, but even still, the strange personal energy shield the Luteces provided him with is put to the test, and prevents a number of metal chunks from caving his skull in on his way to the central chamber. "You'd think with Elizabeth out of the tower, this thing'd be a little quieter!" Booker says aloud. If anything, it's more active now than when he'd been here before, with an eerie green glow permeating the coils. He makes his way to the device the Luteces sketched for him, careful not to get too close to any of the larger machines in the process. "That's it all right. Now was it red-green-red, or green-red-green...?"

After inputting the colors correctly, he answers a puzzling question regarding the number of stairs to something called the Chamber of Life and is left with one button flashing insistently and a warning on the screen. "That oughta do it for now. Only how'm I supposed to know when the other one goes down?" Booker flips through page after page in search of a clue, and on the second-to-last page, he finds it. "'The walls between worlds are thinnest at the witching hour.'" he mused. Underneath that was another note from a similar yet distinctly different hand. "'If you can't figure this one out, we shall weep for the future of mankind.' No doubt that's Rosalind, adding another drop of sarcasm to the bucket. Trouble is, the bucket's filled to burstin' as is. Now, the witchin' hour's midnight, which gives me plenty of time to sit on my fanny and try 'n' work this whole thing out."

He looks around for a chair or something similar to rest on, but finds nothing. "I've sat on worse things in my time." he says as he eases himself down to the ground. "Sure hope Elizabeth's doin' all right." Horrible doubts try to scuttle into his head but are brushed aside. "No more of those, but thanks all the same." Booker thinks darkly. Nevertheless, his mind drifts to his daughter...


	4. Chapter 4

At that very moment, Elizabeth is smiling to herself. Invisibility is something she's wanted since she'd found out what Comstock and the people of the city really thought of her, and here she is, walking down a corridor towards a guard who's completely unaware anyone else is watching him. As she watches, waiting for an opportunity to slip through the door he stands beside, he scratches himself in a most undignified manner. She closes her eyes in disgust but opens them quickly upon hearing footsteps approaching from behind. She flattens herself against a wall as a man in a lab coat walks mere inches from her. The guard nods as the other man fumbles with the lock for a moment. Elizabeth seizes her chance and squeezes through the door as it swings slowly open.

_"Think I should let this thing recharge for a bit." _she thinks to herself. She searches for an empty corner to wait in and has just found the perfect place when she screams. She clamps a hand over her mouth in panic, but the screaming continues. Cautiously, she creeps away from her corner and towards the room the noise is coming from. She beholds an ominously lit chair in the middle of a glass enclosure, and sees the telltale glimmer of a tear within. She thinks briefly of opening it, but she has no idea how such a thing would interact with the mechanism upon her wrist. Not to mention the sounds are loud enough while the tear is closed; she's not sure she wants to know what the her on the other side is going through.

The screaming finally stops and the tear disappears. Elizabeth holds two fingers against her throat to feel her pulse. _"Maybe Booker was right; maybe this wasn't a good idea..."_ Her train of thought is interrupted when a sharp pain cuts through her head. She's left momentarily breathless, and as the feeling recedes, she sees, feels a drop of blood splash to the floor. _"I'd better find something to wipe this up," _she worries. _"Even the man back there would notice if the air started bleeding."_

She hurries through the room the tear had been in, averting her gaze from the raised section in the middle. Thankfully, the watch hides the sound of her boots as well as her body, and she makes it into the next room. A dormitory. Several men and women appear to be sleeping here, and a clock like the one in Finkton hangs on the wall. She lifts a handkerchief from a coat that's draped over a chair and presses it to her nose. _"Good thing this watch isn't just limited to me. It looks like it can disguise things I pick up too." _she thinks to herself as she stops in the middle of the room to recharge said watch and examine the schematics the Luteces had given her.

As Elizabeth makes her way through Comstock House, which seems to have been converted into a large laboratory of some sort, she wonders what the scientists (at least she assumes they're scientists) in this world are working on here. She's brought to a halt by a well-secured iron door, beyond which she hears the low murmur of voices. _"There must be something very important in here to warrant all these locks," _she thinks. After several minutes of watching, she concludes that all the people who work in the other room are already in there, and so there's no chance of ducking in as someone enters or leaves. _"That leaves the hairpin." _She looks around cautiously, suddenly remembering the first time she did this outside the tower with Booker ("_my father," _she adds to herself. _"I have...a father. A good one too."_), then turns off the device. She looks around again, then bends down and begins picking the locks.

Another scream pierces her ears and she drops the hairpin in horror. That was Booker's, and close. _"I'm coming dad! Just hang on!" _she begs him silently. She fumbles for the makeshift lockpick and is forced stop for a moment to let her hands steady. _"I won't do either of us any good if I break this."_ Then she hears the footsteps on the other side of the door. And they're coming closer. She scrambles away from the door and manages to activate the watch just as it opens raspily. Seven people exit in single-file, all of them with various degrees of confusion on their faces. At first, she worries they noticed the sounds of her lock-picking, but those fears are quickly put to rest. As she rushes past them and into the room, she can make out discussions about a power source from another dimension, one which apparently is strong enough to be felt even in this one. Strangely, the power seems to emanate not from Elizabeth, but from...Booker. Her heart nearly stops as she sees what the scientists had been doing.

Booker DeWitt hangs limply in the center of the room, with countless thin grey wires suspending him from the ceiling and embedded painfully into his flesh. Groups of machines are scattered around the room in a seemingly haphazard fashion, all connected to Booker, although she notices somewhat to her relief that it isn't _her_ Booker. His hair is white, and he has a large faded scar across his exposed chest. Immediately, Elizabeth's mind begins to race. She hurries over to the nearest machine and tries to work out the best way to get him down.

She has just enough time to glimpse the notes one of the researchers left, detailing an energy spike an hour ago (which would coincide with the noises she heard from the tear) when the hair on the back of her neck starts to stand on end. She looks up and sees the wires leading from his body have begun to shine with a faint red. A dial on the machine begins to climb steadily until it passes the largest number on the interface and seems to want to push even higher. Booker is straining like she's never seen him do before; his muscles bulge, his teeth are tightly gritted. The glow around the wires is intensifying and somewhere nearby an alarm begins to sound.

Elizabeth's watch lets out a harsh tone and she finds herself fully visible again. Fear mingles with apprehension and she backs slowly away from both the machine and the other DeWitt it's connected to. Sparks start to fly all across the room and she can hear the sounds of people frantically trying to open the locks on the door. Booker lets out a grunt and a group of wires suddenly snap,; heir frayed ends hang limply from his skin as his hand suddenly grabs a cluster from his other side and grips them tightly. The red light is emanating from his body now, not just the wires, and he seems to be pouring more of that strange power into the wires. "Don't panic, don't panic; just find a place to hide!" Elizabeth tells herself just as the power goes out. Booker still radiates enough energy to enable her to grope her way to a far corner of the room, taking cover behind a device that seemed strangely familiar...

The door opens and the scientists scramble inside, only to stop in their tracks as they take in the scene. Booker now lets out a bone-rattling yell and tears all the cords loose from his body. He's bleeding from well over a dozen places, yet his eyes are still closed. Suddenly, they fly open and the scientists gasp. Elizabeth is unable to see whatever provoked that reaction, but she can see Booker's arm raise slowly with one finger pointed at the man in front of the rest. Something shoots out and bores a hole neatly through the man's forehead. Someone screams, and just as quickly falls silent as a hole appears in his forehead too. The others try to run, but as the lone clock in the room solemnly tolls midnight, Booker holds up his whole hand and lets loose with a furious column of energy. The glare fades and Elizabeth can now see the group, who've been reduced to a smoldering pile of skeletons just mere feet outside. The other Booker lowers his hand and staggers out of the room, dripping with blood.

In stunned silence, Elizabeth gets to her feet and nearly falls over. Her knees are shaking; no, her whole body is shaking. She notices dazedly that the machine she had been hiding behind was the very machine she had come here to find. Whatever power the other Booker had been using, however, rendered it permanently inoperable. "Where is he going?" she wonders aloud.


	5. Chapter 5

He can already feel his new strength leaving him. It's only an echo of what another DeWitt had received, and his battered body can't hold on to it for long. He doesn't care; even now, he'll have more than enough to set things right.

He draws his arm back and punches the door in front of him. Somehow, he can hear a surgeon's voice from the other side, "I need all personnel at the main entrance! Now!"

"Doctor Powell, something's wrong!" Another man's voice. And behind it, a moan that he knows only too well. He punches the door again and it buckles. It won't be long.

"We're losing her! Surgical team to the operating table!" Losing her...? Another blow, and another. The door finally gives way.

He's met with a hail of bullets from security, but they're shattered by his aura when they come near. He surges forward, scattering them all with one sweep of his arm. He winces as he feels the power continuing to ebb, and then he hears her. "Booker...?" She's too weak to sit up, but amidst the crowd of 'doctors', he sees her turn her head. Her eyes rest on him. Then they close. She stops breathing, and so does he.

With one more enormous strain, he lets what's left of the energy loose. The glass melts. The doctors are turned to ash. Only she's left, but she's gone.

He drags himself up to her. She's bruised and bloodied and dead. He feels the darkness claiming him, but that's all he can feel. He leans down and kisses her brow. It's still warm. "I'm coming, Elizabeth..." he whispers, and then he falls to the ground, dead, before her prostrate body.

* * *

Songbird hurtles towards the building as fast as his wings will take him, scarcely conscious of his passenger struggling to stay on his back. With a screech, he crashes through glass and stone alike. His passenger is finally knocked loose, and is sent flying away. He lets out a pained shout as he impacts the wall, his shield shattering instantly. Someone is there to help him, but he can't focus on the face through the pain.

The first thing he realizes is that he can see himself. He sees a man with his same face lying dead on a platform in the center of the room. And on the table above the body is another body. Elizabeth's body. But Elizabeth is standing beside him. She was the one who got him to his feet, brushed off his shirt for him... She doubles over, and he sees flecks of blood fly from her nose. He touches two trembling fingers to his own nose. They come away covered in blood. His mind fills with static, as it did when they entered the last world where he'd died as a martyr. Here, he died alone and in agony.

Elizabeth mutters softly, "I'm dead but I'm alive... Why can I feel both?" He feels something brush against him somewhere. He grasps blindly for it and finds her hand waiting for his. She's squeezing it tightly. He lets her. And slowly, bit by bit, the pain and the static and the blood goes away and they can find each other again.

* * *

"This is all your fault, you know."

"And hers."

"She brought you here because one of the siphons was down."

"He tried, in his way, to be free."

"He failed. It wasn't enough."

"If you hadn't come here..."

"You would have brought her here."

"You would have brought down one of the siphons."

"And she would have come here."

"A circle within a circle."

The Luteces stand between the living and the dead, still lecturing.

"Now, you are free."

"You may go wherever you wish."

"New York."

"Paris."

"Rapture."

"All equally valid choices."

"And you can choose for once."

* * *

The room is empty now.


End file.
